


Spring Sale

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Satin Kink, Top Castiel, fabric kink, ish, pink and satiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Around the corner the fabric selection expanded, ranging from thick denim to flimsy lace and everything in between.  Dean paused at an assortment of plaid flannel, flipping through them consideringly.</p><p>"Should find the damn angel-crafter a sewing machine," he muttered.  "Save us on shitty Wal-Mart shirts."</p><p>Finally he lingered by the bins of fabric scraps, nudging his basket along with his foot.  He picked up a bit of angora, swiping the soft fur against his cheek, then made a face at a piece of rough, scratchy wool.</p><p>When Cas found him, Dean had a long swatch of pink satin in his hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.</p><p>"Dean?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Sale

"You shittin' me, Cas?" Dean groaned. "We been on the road almost a week, Sam's been back for two days already an' we're like twenty miles from home, you seriously wanna stop in a friggin' _Michaels_?"

Cas shrank into himself, fidgeting with his coat. "I -- I just wanted to knit some more socks. I like socks. And -- it relaxes me. We don't have to."

Dean sighed, but he was already pulling into the shopping center. "S'fine," he said in a gentler tone, reaching over to squeeze the angel's hand and pulling it up to his lips. "Just don't, y'know, take twelve years pickin' shit out."

Cas' eye-roll was almost palpable. "I'll try to finish within the decade, Dean."

They found a parking space and got out, Dean trailing Cas into the store and still grumbling under his breath. Cas made a beeline for the skeins of yarn lining one aisle, so Dean just wandered aimlessly through the store.

He picked up an elastic band adorned with a large daisy and snorted, picturing it wrapped around one of Sam's ridiculous man-buns. On a whim, he grabbed a stray basket and chucked the elastic in.

Dean's eyes lit up as he surveyed the next aisle, filled top-to-bottom with baking supplies. He bypassed the cake pans disdainfully, paused briefly on an array of cupcake tins, then settled on a shelf of pie pans. He picked up a few different ones, testing their weight and depth, before he caught sight of a tray of mini-pie molds.

"Huh," he said out loud. Setting all but the deepest pie pan back on the shelf, he picked up the mini-tray, examining it thoughtfully. He glanced back and forth between the two, shrugged, and tossed them both in the basket.

Moving on, he wandered into the fabrics section. There was a prominent display of soft yellow cotton, decorated with tiny white flowers. It reminded him of Mary, and he smiled sadly, stroking a hand down the length of cloth.

Around the corner the fabric selection expanded, ranging from thick denim to flimsy lace and everything in between. Dean paused at an assortment of plaid flannel, flipping through them consideringly.

"Should find the damn angel-crafter a sewing machine," he muttered. "Save us on shitty Wal-Mart shirts."

Finally he lingered by the bins of fabric scraps, nudging his basket along with his foot. He picked up a bit of angora, swiping the soft fur against his cheek, then made a face at a piece of rough, scratchy wool.

When Cas found him, Dean had a long swatch of pink satin in his hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Dean?"

Dean jumped, dropping the fabric like a burnt potato. "Oh -- uh -- hey, Cas. You ready?"

Cas stared at him, eyes darting between the basket at Dean's feet, the satin still dangling over the side of the bin, and the faint blush in his cheeks.

"Yes," Cas said slowly. "Are you?"

"Yep," Dean announced. "I just --" He stumbled against the basket, pie pans jangling. "Got some stuff for the kitchen, and -- and somethin' for Samantha's stupid hair, so --"

Cas ignored him, stepping around to peer into the bin.

"This would look lovely on you," he said, holding up the pink satin.

"I -- _what_?" The flush spread down Dean's throat, almost matching the color of the cloth.

Cas let his eyes trail down his body, lingering unashamedly at his groin, and he pressed the fabric against Dean's hips, letting it hang over the nascent tent in his jeans.

" _Dude_ ," Dean hissed, even as his dick twitched through the denim. "You can't --"

Cas just gave him a slightly feral grin. He dropped the swatch into his own basket, then turned on his heel, leading Dean to the checkout lanes.

Dean cursed quietly, adjusting his jeans. He debated leaving his basket where it was and beating a hasty retreat to the Impala, but gathering the last shreds of his dignity, he picked it up, following Cas to the front.

The girl at the checkout peered curiously at their baskets. "Eclectic tastes, huh?" she said cheerfully, scanning the items.

"We're learning," Cas said, deadpan, but a smile quirked at his lips, and she grinned at him.

"Well, we're having a spring sale next weekend, whole store's 25% off or more," she informed him, carefully wrapping up their purchases as Cas expertly swiped a stolen credit card, to Dean's quiet pride.

"Dude, we don't --"

"We may be back then," Cas interrupted. "Thank you." He gathered their bags and turned away. Dean sighed and followed, resolutely ignoring the lingering gaze behind them, and an abbreviated " _\-- and dreamy --_ " from a few lanes down.

"You ready to go home _now_?" Dean grumbled, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the key.

Cas hummed, closing his door and fastening his seat belt. "You picked out as many things as I did," he pointed out, settling back against the leather.

Dean flushed again. "Yeah, well, bunker's kitchen is stuck back in like 1953. Nothin' wrong with wanting to update a pie pan, 'kay?" He waited for a snarky comeback, but Cas just snaked a hand onto his knee, turning his face to the Kansas fields.

Finally they pulled into the bunker and got out, stretching. Dean grabbed their duffels from the trunk while Cas hefted the bags from Michaels. Stumbling inside, they stopped short when they saw Sam sprawled out on the library couch with reruns of The Golden Girls on the television, mouth open and snoring.

Dean grinned, lifting a finger to his lips. He fished the daisy elastic from a bag and crept into the library, winding it up between his fingers. Aiming it carefully at Sam's forehead, he pulled it back and let it loose, hitting Sam's head with a _thwap_.

"What the --!" Sam yelped, long limbs flailing in confusion. "Ow!" He rubbed at his forehead, turning to Dean with a glare. 

"We're home," Dean informed him with an innocent grin. "I brought you a present."

"Asshole," Sam muttered, but he couldn't help the smile at Dean and Cas standing safe in their home.

Cas bent down, rummaging in the bags and coming up with several skeins of wool. "I'm making socks," he said gravely. "Perhaps scarves. If you'd like some."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, and Dean waited for the snorting laughter, but instead Sam just smiled at Cas. "I'd love some socks," he said seriously.

"Yeah, probably take all the wool we got today just to make him one gigantor moose-hoof," Dean muttered. He caught Cas' fingers closing over the swatch of satin and immediately bent over the bags, nudging Cas out of the way.

"And pie pans!" he announced, trying for composure. "Honest-to-God, twenty-first century pie pans!"

Sam squinted at him. "Did pie pans change that much since the Men of Letters?"

"Yeah," Dean informed him. "Fuck off. It's pie, it deserves the best. _Anyway_." He grabbed the bags with one hand and Cas' wrist with the other, pulling him up the stairs.

Once they were safely in Dean's room with the door shut behind them, Dean turned a scowl to Cas, tinged with arousal.

"Yes?" Cas said, implacable as always.

"You _know_."

Cas reached down, plucking the silky fabric from the bag. "This?"

Dean sat down on the bed, scrubbing a hand across his face and saying nothing.

"You're embarrassed," Cas said. "Why?"

"I -- because -- I don't know, okay?"

Cas smoothed the material down his own forearm. "I can see why you find it appealing," he said thoughtfully, rubbing it against his lips.

Dean swallowed visibly, his eyes on Cas' mouth. "You -- you don't think it's, y'know, weird?"

Cas looked genuinely confused, head in its customary tilt. "Why would it be weird?"

"I dunno, s'just..." He plucked the satin from Cas' hand and let it trail between his fingers. "It's _girly_ , ain't it?" he finally blurted, face almost as pink as the silk.

"How is _material_ gendered?" Cas asked, bewildered, and Dean sighed. 

"S'just _is_ , Cas. I mean it's not, I know, but like -- you didn't grow up with it, dude. Pink's for girls, blue for boys, yada yada."

"That's absurd," Cas declared with finality. He pushed Dean back on the bed and tugged his shirt off, ignoring the muffled protests. Reclaiming the satin, he laid it over Dean's torso, letting it trail onto the bed. 

"I think you look very manly." He smoothed his hand over the musculature of Dean's torso, hard lines under the soft material.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny the lust in Cas' face. "So you, y'know… like it?"

Cas dragged his fingers up Dean's ribs, pulling the fabric with them. Gathering some between his thumbs and forefingers, he pinched Dean's nipples hard.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, the softness throwing the sting into sharp relief

Pulling the fabric taut again over Dean's chest, Cas bent his head and tongued at Dean's left nipple, biting gently, then the right, leaving small wet smears darkening the pink.

" _Cas_." Dean arched, erection pressing against Cas' hip through the denim.

Cas just murmured something inaudible. He reached down, fumbling at Dean's jeans until he could yank at the zipper and tug them down along with his boxers. Finally lifting his head, he trailed the satin slowly down Dean's belly, watching the way the stomach muscles twitched.

"I swear to God, Cas, if you don't --"

Cas looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. He wrapped the cloth around three fingers and raised them to Dean's mouth, settling on his tongue. Instinctively, Dean's lips wrapped around them, his eyes falling closed.

"Good," Cas whispered. He drew his hand out, the satin hanging obscenely from Dean's mouth for a moment before Cas pulled it free. Crawling down the bed, he pushed Dean's clothes down further, tossing them to the floor.

"Think y'could -- lose the trenchcoat, at least?"

Cas blinked, then sat back slightly. "I can do that," he affirmed gravely. He shrugged off the coat and undid the buttons of his shirt until it hung loosely off his frame. When he bent back down, the cotton slid over Dean' thighs, drawing a trail of goosebumps.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean's cock twitched, leaving shiny drops of precome on Cas' sternum. Cas swiped a finger through the wetness, bringing it to his lips. 

Dean groaned, his head falling back to the bed. "Dude. You're killin' me."

Cas just pressed a small kiss to the inside of Dean's thigh, then dragged the satin down until it was draped over his groin, a small dark spot already spreading over the head of Dean's cock.

"Does that feel good?" Cas asked, stroking lightly down Dean's length.

" _Yes_ ," Dean hissed. His hips jerked, and Cas pushed them back to the back.

"Good." Cas bent his head again, just tonguing at the sensitive underside before wrapping his lips over the cloth-covered head. He sucked gently, the pornographic sounds sending sparks up Dean's spine.

"Cas, baby," Dean begged helplessly. He reached down, pulling the material taut over his dick, and Cas licked a long, slow stripe from the tip to the root.

"You're so beautiful," Cas murmured, his breath hot on the damp fabric. "You are art." He sank down, manipulating the fabric with his lips, sliding over the sensitive skin. It dragged over Dean's sensitive balls and between his legs, and Cas tugged at it.

"Cas, you keep doin' that, and this little fashion show's gonna be over real quick," Dean finally ground out.

Cas just hummed. He dipped his head further until he could slip underneath the edge of the material. Tongue barely brushing over Dean's hole, he licked up his perineum, fabric tickling at his nose.

Just as he felt Dean's balls begin to tighten under his lips, Cas sat up, ignoring Dean's whine of protest. He finally yanked off his own slacks and boxers, kicking them to the floor, and straddled Dean's hips.

" _Cas_ ," Dean begged. His hips jerked, trying to get more friction against the slippery satin, but Cas just pinned them back to the bed.

"Shh," he said, leaning down to kiss him. Dean responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Cas' neck even as his dick twitched against his belly.

Sitting back again, Cas lifted the fabric until he could slide his own aching cock underneath it, alongside Dean's. He wrapped his hand around them, encircling them in a sheath of damp satin, sticky with precome. He began stroking slowly, and Dean's head fell back to the pillow.

"Shit, baby, feels so good," Dean said through gritted teeth. He reached a hand up to join with Cas', squeezing tighter and increasing their pace.

"So good," Cas echoed. Their hips were already beginning to stutter, and despite the haze of arousal and the orgasm coiling in his belly, Dean cherished as always the moment Cas' implacable self-control began to crumble, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"C'mon, c'mon," Dean chanted mindlessly. "C'mon, Cas, _c'mon_..." He twisted his hand over their heads then stroked down again, squeezing the satin tight around them. Cas' knees tightened around his hips with vise-like strength, and then they were both coming, wetness spread in hot dark patches over the fabric and dripping from its corners.

"Shit," Dean said, struggling to catch his breath.

"Mm," Cas agreed. He swayed slightly, then peeled the satin off their cocks with an obscene squelch and tossed it into onto Dean's torso before toppling to his side. Ignoring Dean's squawk of protest, he began tracing it in absent patterns on his chest.

"Dude, that's not, like, Jergens, y'know," Dean complained, but let Cas continue his ministrations.

"I like my seed on your skin," Cas murmured, and Dean snorted.

"Your _seed_? Thought you were an angel, not a plant."

Cas rolled his eyes. He propped himself up on one elbow, a flash of seraphic power in his eyes. "I would mark you with my come on every inch of your body until every being in Heaven and Earth knows who you belong to," he said calmly. "Is that better?"

Dean swallowed, his spent dick giving a feeble twitch. "Y-yeah. That works."

Cas curled back against Dean's side, smiling softly. "And I find I like you in satin," he added, swiping a sticky thumb over his sternum. "Maybe I should learn to sew."

"Gonna be an expensive habit," Dean pointed out with a hoarse snicker. He plucked at the fabric, stretched out and wrinkled and streaked with crusty white. "Don't think this lasted an hour."

Cas just yawned. "We'll go back next weekend," he said, giving Dean's chest a sleepy pat. "Remember, they're having a spring sale."

Dean just groaned, and Cas grinned, ducking the swatch of ruined satin Dean flicked at his head.

**Author's Note:**

> ok well this is not what I intended to write for [SPN Coldest Hits](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com) and I cannot compete with the glory of glitterdick and pejazzling, but here, have some satin porn. <3
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://relucant.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/relucanting).
> 
> I'm nice.


End file.
